


Step Right Off

by triggerswaggiehavoc



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Band Camp AU, M/M, Mild Language, obnoxious trombonists, shitty humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7970695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerswaggiehavoc/pseuds/triggerswaggiehavoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Band is fun. Camp is fun. Together, they are not very fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Step Right Off

Take it back.

That’s what the directors say, what the drum major echoes, and by god, Jihoon wishes he could do it. Take it all back, all the way back to his final year of elementary school when he decided it might be fun to play in the middle school band. Back to the end of his first year when he thought he might quit, that maybe clarinet just wasn’t his thing, but stuck with it anyway. Back to his first marching season in high school when he swore he’d never step foot on a field again after that first day of band camp and then proceeded to march all four years. Back to when he was choosing a university and deliberately settled on one with a strong marching band program, deliberately auditioned to become a part of it. He wishes he could take it back to every single decision and punch himself square in the jaw, but he can’t, so he just takes himself back from this set to the previous one for the first last time.

He doesn’t really have a _concrete_ reason to be upset; it’s not like he hates marching or playing the clarinet. After all, if either of those was the case, he wouldn’t be here at all. What’s posing an issue at the moment is the fact that he is a clarinet player marching in a spot distinctly not meant to be housing a clarinet player. He can see the rest of the clarinets several yard lines down the field, around the rest of the woodwinds, where they belong, but he stands resolute and alone, worlds away in the middle of a gleaming brass hell.

There’s really no good explanation for his being forced to march in a trombone spot aside from someone upstairs having a vendetta against him, yet here he is, surrounded by long slides and superfluous innuendos. And that’s the main issue, that it’s trombones, because that’s the kind of people trombone players always seem to be, so quick and eager to make those tasteless jokes Jihoon can’t stand. He’s so certain he would have been fine if he’d been forced into mellophone territory.

Even that, though, still isn’t enough to explain what exactly has him so upset. Normally, he’d just tune it out, act like he couldn’t hear a thing or see a single person around him, but on this particular occasion, he’s having a very hard time pretending. Basically, it all boils down to this: The trombone player in the spot immediately beside him is unbearably, agonizingly, unfairly, immorally hot.

Jihoon hates how he feels like omitting any of those adverbs would be a disservice, and he hates even more how desperate he is to learn this guy’s name. Some less-than-subtle glancing at the mandatory nametags each member received on the first day of band camp tells him it starts with a _J_ , but he can’t get a very good look without being overtly conspicuous, so he has to rely on his keen ears instead, listening for any hint of a namedrop every time someone turns to speak to the guy. Eventually, he discerns that it’s Jun, and boy, does that have just the right ring to it.

As he realigns his feet on the yard line and waits for the whistle, he can’t help but sort of not-so-accidentally stare out of his periphery at the specimen next to him. He’s been blaming the distraction of marching next to someone so gorgeous for his consistent failure to hit the next form, but when rehearsal concludes and one of the nearby section leaders commands their line to stay back and work on the transition, he’s relieved to see he’s not the only one who’s been having trouble with it.

“This move really is not that hard,” the section leader shouts, ponytail rippling in the breeze as he extends a finger to point at the guy on the far right side of the line. “If only Seokmin here would just take his head out of his ass and take big enough steps, we would all make it there every time.”

“Fuck you, Jeonghan,” Seokmin pipes up. “I don’t need this abuse.”

“Quit, then. Maybe they’ll fill your spot with someone competent.” He flashes a winning smile and is met with substantial grumbling from Seokmin and muted chuckles from the rest of the line as he falls back into it.

While Jeonghan loudly counts off the move, Jihoon sees the rest of his section from across the field, already gathering their possessions and leaving for their lunch break. He sighs on the step off. Now he’s got two options: eat alone or ask someone where they went and pray for a response. The longer they spend reworking the move because Seokmin “couldn’t find his dot if it had a neon sign over it,” the more likely it seems he’ll have to settle for option two.

Once they’ve finally done it correctly three times in a row, Jeonghan dismisses them with a huff, and the words are no sooner out of his lips than Jihoon is scurrying across the field at a record pace to gather his things up and race to find his fellow section members. He’s surprised when he checks his phone and sees that less time has passed than he thought, and he really thinks he might be able to catch up with some of them before he hears the booming voice of someone calling him from fifty yards away.

“Hey, clarinet!” Jeonghan shouts as he approaches, each step a flawless eight-to-five. Jihoon wouldn’t have pegged him as someone who could be that loud. “Your section buddies already left, so come eat lunch with us!” Jihoon makes it very evident on his face that he is not eager to join them, but Jeonghan continues to walk toward him with a wide grin until he’s standing next to him, case bumping aggravatingly into Jihoon’s knees.

“Okay,” Jihoon sighs eventually; there’s a gleam in Jeonghan’s eyes that says he won’t be taking no for an answer, and Jihoon’s not willing to put up a futile argument when it’s so ungodly hot outside.

“Excellent,” he says with a nod, and once the rest of the line has joined them, they begin their journey to drop off their instruments and seek out a meal.

They wind up at Subway because it’s the closest restaurant that seems like it’ll get them fed in a reasonable amount of time, and Jihoon is only slightly hyperaware of Jun’s presence directly behind him in the line. He pretends not to pay way too much attention to how silky his voice is when he orders his sandwich, and he really hates himself for paying special attention to the way he says the word _lettuce_. The sound of that probably won’t leave his head for weeks.

“So what was your name again?” Jeonghan asks once they’ve sat down. They needlessly squeezed six people into one booth, sandwiching Jihoon between Seokmin and some other guy named Mingyu who is big and tall and not quite sure what to do with his elbows beyond jabbing Jihoon’s face with them. On the bench opposite sit Jun, Jeonghan, and a boy named Soonyoung who appears to be in color guard. Jihoon has no idea where he came from.

“It’s Jihoon,” Jihoon responds flatly, taking a bite of his sandwich to indicate he’s not interested in further conversation. Unfortunately, Jeonghan is not to be deterred.

“Jihoon,” he hums, flattening his lips into a line. “I can work with that. Just give me a second.”

“Work with it?” Jihoon feels compelled to ask.

“You know, a nickname. Give me a second to think of one.”

“I don’t need a nickname.”

“Too late, Hoonie,” Jeonghan says, snapping his fingers and flashing his teeth. “I already came up with it.” Jihoon gags on wheat bread.

“Please do not call me that.”

Jeonghan hums in contemplation for a moment before saying, “Nah. I already came up with it, so that’s what I’m calling you.”

“Jesus,” Seokmin whistles, “why are you so abrasive?”

“What the hell does abrasive mean?” Mingyu asks way too loudly, garnering the attention of the restaurant staff and stabbing Jihoon in the neck with a sharp elbow. Jun snorts.

“How did you graduate high school without knowing what that word means?” he says, and Jihoon hates that he’s really almost willing to ignore the fact that those two feats have nothing to do with each other just because he enjoys the sound of his voice so much. “Look it up.”

“Fine. Maybe I will,” Mingyu spits like he’s proving a point, then almost decks Jihoon when he struggles to extract his phone from his pocket. As he taps his fingers furiously against the screen, Jihoon thinks he can see Jun smiling straight at him out of the corner of his eye and forces another bite into his mouth to fight the color threatening to creep onto his cheeks. “Okay… ‘Capable of polishing or cleaning a hard surface by rubbing or grinding.’” He stares hard at the phone for a solid minute before looking up, brow furrowed. “What the hell?”

“That’s not the only meaning of the word, you dumbass,” Jeonghan sighs, exhaustion evident in his voice.

“Besides,” Jun intrudes, “everyone knows _I’m_ the one who’s best at grinding.” Jihoon genuinely does not intend to look up at the comment, but his eyes move on their own, and when they do, they find Jun’s very much fixed on him, a greasy smile curling his lips. He chokes on his sandwich again.

“Full offense,” Soonyoung coughs, “but you grinding is the last thing I want to picture when I’m eating.”

“Anyhow,” Jeonghan sighs, “Mingyu also said ‘capable of polishing.’ One look at your horn tells us that does not apply to you.”

“Excuse me? My horn is immaculate.”

“Define immaculate.”

“Uh, only kinda dirty,” Soonyoung grumbles, and his impression of Jun’s voice is so good that Jihoon almost wouldn’t have noticed it was just an imitation if his eyes hadn’t been so transfixed by Jun’s unmoving lips. Speaking of his eyes being transfixed by Jun’s lips, he needs them to stop being that. He whips his gaze over to the soda fountain and starts memorizing the order the drinks are in. Orange Fanta, Dr. Pepper, Cherry Coke, Powera—

“So, Jihoon,” Jun says, and it’s definitely his actual voice this time. Jihoon would probably rather die than make eye contact, but it would arouse far more suspicion if he pointedly did not do so while being spoken to, so he shifts his gaze back to Jun’s still-grinning mug. “Are you coming to the pool party on Friday?”

It’s a tradition, apparently, that the directors throw a pool party on the last day of band camp to celebrate everyone’s hard work and making it through the week. There will allegedly be snacks and music and other “fun” things, but none of them are even close to tempting Jihoon to show up. After a full week of standing outside all day in the blistering heat and huffing and puffing his way around the field, there’s no way he’s going to have the energy to show up to a pool party, neither mentally nor physically.

“No,” he declines immediately, and Jun’s face drops into a very obvious frown without any hesitation whatsoever.

“Why not?” he whines. “It’s gonna be so much fun. You’ll regret it if you don’t go.”

“I really doubt that.”

“You can’t just _not_ go,” he gripes, and Jihoon is right on the cusp of asking Jun why he wants him to go so badly when Jeonghan slams his palms down on the table with enough force to crack it clean in half, sending the employees into a state of heightened alarm.

“More importantly,” he says, rising from his seat and beginning to nudge Soonyoung off the bench, “we need to leave now if we want to make it back to rehearsal on time.” No room for argument is left when he starts to shove his way out of the booth roughly, sliding Soonyoung nearly onto the floor in the process. With little else to do but follow obediently, the rest of them shuffle out of the booth and begin the trek back toward rehearsal.

“Jihoon.” Jun slows his pace dramatically out of nowhere, dropping to the back of the pack in an instant and assuming the position at Jihoon’s side. Jihoon’s heart picks up speed with zeal, and he can’t honestly say it’s all due to surprise. “Seriously, you should come to the pool party.”

“Why?” He pretends to be extremely focused on the sidewalk so he doesn’t have to look at Jun’s face even if his brain knows he totally wants to.

“Because it’ll be _fun_ ,” he insists, and Jihoon would swear he almost sounds frustrated. “Just think about it.”

Jihoon doesn’t want to think about it, but he finds himself doing so anyway. When he stands in his spot on that final Friday and watches heat ripple up off the field, he thinks about it. When he marches set to set in a daze and feels his skin start to grow crisp under the brutality of the sun, he thinks about it. When they’re instructed to practice bounce lines and Jun happens to be his flip partner, happens to be very shirtless and sweaty and golden, he really thinks about it. He thinks about it so much that he accidentally ends up going.

As he arrives at the pool, he narrows his eyes suspiciously, like he’s just realized where he is and isn’t quite sure how he got here at all. He shuffles forward hesitantly, sandals scraping over the concrete, and slaps his towel down onto a chair. After doing so, he stares at it for a while, because he hadn’t really planned out what he was going to do after reaching this point. Glancing at the rippling water already mostly filled with other band members, he decides he may as well get in.

He slides into a corner at the farthest recesses of the pool where the music is almost inaudible and there are barely any other students swimming around and wonders why he even bothered showing up in the first place. There has never been a time in his life when he found swimming fun, and now is no different, especially when his height forces him to be treading water constantly, and he’d much rather just turn in early and get caught up on all the precious sleep he’s been missing all week long. As he watches the moon’s reflection get distorted by ripples coming from the far end of the pool and listens to the faint bass coming from the subpar sound system just beyond, he decides he’s going to cut his losses and hike across campus, back to the slightly uncomfortable dorm bed awaiting him.

Slowly but certainly, he pushes himself through the water and back to the ladder, brain already overflowing with thoughts of the pleasant night’s sleep he’s about to have, but the second he grips the bar and starts pulling himself up onto the steps, a pair of feet appears before his eyes, blocking passage. His eyes trail up an obscenely tall frame until they reach a face that is unmistakably Jun’s way up at the top. Jihoon gulps hard without meaning to, and when he blinks and opens his eyes again, Jun has dropped into a very low squat and hunched forward, bringing their faces much closer than they ought to be under any circumstance.

“I finally found you!” he cheers with a wide smile, clutching the rail right above where Jihoon’s hand sits. The sides of their hands brush together in a way that doesn’t seem much like an accident, and Jihoon slightly wants to drown. “Move over so I can get in.”

“You move. I’m getting out.”

“What?” The grin drops off his face alarmingly quickly, and if Jihoon didn’t know any better, he’d think he was hearing a little panic in that tone. “You can’t leave. I just found you!”

“I can and I am. Get out of my way.”

“No,” Jun says, sinking to his ass without another word and shoving his feet onto the first rung of the ladder. “Let me in the pool.”

“You can just jump in,” Jihoon points out. “There’s no reason you have to use the ladder.”

“But if I jump in, you’ll just leave.”

“Damn straight.” Jun flings his arms up into the air, aggravation extremely evident on his face. Jihoon hates that he still looks really good, and he hates even more the way the moonlight reflecting of Jun’s already-damp skin makes his throat feel dry. Ironic things to notice after uttering the phrase ‘damn straight’.

“There’s no point in me even getting in, then, if you’re just gonna leave.”

“How not?” Jihoon is starting to get kind of annoyed, mainly because he’s not sure what Jun’s implying or why he’s putting up such a fight, but also partially because talking to really attractive people for too long always ends up making him angry. He’s not really sure why that is—maybe it’s the infuriatingly flawless features. “The pool is still going to be here.”

“I literally only came to talk to you.” Jihoon’s not at all fond of the way his breath catches, and he eyes Jun warily to make up for it, but his heart is suddenly beating way too loud to determine whether he’s being sincere. Reluctantly, he releases his hold on the ladder and slips to the side to allow Jun to descend into the water with a much larger splash than is necessary. “So,” he asks with an obnoxiously charismatic grin, “how did you like band camp?”

Even after a solid minute of careful scrutiny, Jihoon cannot for the life of him tell whether the question he’s just been asked is genuine or rhetorical. The look on Jun’s face says “answer it already” but the words themselves indicate no need for an actual response, so Jihoon just stares back silently until it starts to become uncomfortable for both of them. Eventually, he sighs and heads for the ladder again, and Jun clamps a hand on his wrist immediately.

“Are you kidding me?” he asks, exasperated, and Jihoon needs that hand off him _now_ because he is paying way too damn much attention to how strong his fingers are and how fucking nice they feel on his skin like that.

“What?”

“Don’t _leave_ ,” Jun whines, tugging Jihoon back toward him by the arm with perceptibly more force than is needed.

“I’m not leaving,” Jihoon huffs in return, and he’s enormously glad that it’s dark enough that Jun probably can’t tell he’s starting to get a little red. He shouldn’t be getting red, anyway, and the annoyance which accompanies that personal observation is only making it worse. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not as tall as you are. I can’t just stand on the bottom of the pool.” He jabs a finger violently at the ledge of concrete hanging over directly beside the ladder, trying and failing to shake off Jun’s grip in the process. “I’m going to sit right there so I don’t wear the hell out of my legs.”

“Okay,” Jun says after careful deliberation, still highly suspicious. He releases Jihoon’s wrist reluctantly, and for a brief moment, Jihoon is tempted to bolt straight up the ladder and sprint all the way home before Jun has a chance to stop him, but as he hauls himself up the steps, he decides against betraying Jun’s trust and settles for dangling his feet in the pool beside him. Jun settles back on the concrete next to him, shoulder very definitely pressed against his calf. “So, how did you like band camp?” he repeats, and Jihoon rolls his eyes.

“You seriously wanted me to answer that?” he scoffs. “It pretty much goes without saying that it sucked ass.”

“Hey, now,” Jun defends, shifting to the side and knocking his shoulder into Jihoon’s knee gently, “some people enjoy it.”

“Well, I’m not one of them,” he grunts, slamming his ankle into Jun’s arm and eliciting a whimper. “My feet hurt and all I wanna do is go to bed.”

“And yet you’re here, at the pool, with _me_ ,” Jun points out, smile wide and almost proud, and Jihoon narrows his eyes because as far as he can tell, Jun has done nothing to be proud of. Aside from being incredibly handsome. Which does not count.

“Why are you talking to me, anyway?” Jihoon asks bluntly. “We’re not even friends.” The more he thinks about it, the more the pieces start connecting: the really good-looking guy acts like he’s buddying up to the little angry boy who doesn’t have a lot of friends, then it turns out he was actually the target of some stupidly elaborate prank the whole time. Nice try, but Jihoon’s not falling for it. “I’m leaving,” he says suddenly, and Jun whips around in panic.

“Why do keep trying to leave?” he cries in frustration. “Can’t you just stay and talk to me?”

“Why do you want me to stay and talk to you so bad?” Jihoon shoots back. “It’s weird and suspicious! I know you’re planning something!”

“Planning—you—what the hell?” he sputters, flinging his arms into the air and bringing a substantial amount of water with them. “How is it suspicious of me to want to have a damn conversation?”

“You know exactly how,” Jihoon hisses. “Look at you!” That really pushes Jun back a few steps. He blinks slowly, anger completely forgotten.

“What do you mean, look at me?” he asks, utterly dumbfounded, and Jihoon is regretting his choice of justification.

“You know,” he says, trying to skirt around having to actually say it, but Jun won’t let him, only shaking his head in a way that very much implies he does not know. “You’re like,” he begins, licking lips which have suddenly become immensely dry, “you know.” Jun is still acting like he doesn’t know. “Hot.” Jun raises his eyebrows and Jihoon’s face is engulfed in flames and he thinks he’ll probably die if he sticks around for another second. “I’m leaving.”

“You think I’m hot?” he asks, face lighting up, but Jihoon pretends not to hear, just starts pulling himself up onto his feet. “Wait a second, you really can’t leave right now,” he says hurriedly, wrapping a hand around one of Jihoon’s ankles with unbelievable speed.

“Let me go,” Jihoon grumbles, refusing to look back, but despite how hard he tries to kick Jun’s grip away, the fingertips only dig in more. “Seriously, I—”

Before he can get another word out, his head is being fully submerged under the water, and he half thinks this is the big prank he was trying to avoid. He resurfaces with a big splash, struggling to catch his breath, and notices that the hold on his ankle has been released and relocated to his wrist. As he takes in gulps of air to normalize his breathing again, he notices Jun’s gaze fixed on him very intently.

“What the fuck?” he spits.

“Sorry,” Jun says unconvincingly. “I honest to god did not mean to do that, but like…” He shifts his weight awkwardly, squeezing Jihoon’s wrist just a little bit, and once again, Jihoon needs him to let go right away. “You said I was hot.”

“Pretend I didn’t and let me be.”

“ _No_ ,” he presses, “because, like… You know.” Now it’s Jihoon’s turn not to know. “You’re so, like…” He furrows his brow and expels a very forceful breath. “Really cute.” Jihoon narrows his eyes as he stares back at Jun, who is very clearly holding his breath.

“Who put you up to this?” he says at last through gritted teeth. Once again, an A for effort, but he’s not fool enough to buy into such schemes so readily, even if his heart is beating idiotically fast. He wracks his brain, searching for anyone who could be behind this. Someone from high school, maybe, who’s got a grudge against him, a score to settle. Names and faces flash through his brain rapidly. “Was it Carl?” he growls at last, whipping his head around frantically. “Where is he hiding?”

“Who the hell is Carl?” Jun sighs, searching Jihoon’s face and looking incredibly tired. “And why are you assuming someone put me up to this?”

“Come on,” Jihoon moans. “I’m not stupid.” He flattens his mouth into a line, but Jun still looks more weary than like he’s just been caught in the middle of attempting to trick someone. “I mean, you’re straight.” Jun springs into a coughing fit out of nowhere, hacking up a lung until there’s a single tear beading at the corner of his left eye.

“Excuse me?” he says at length, trying to wipe the tear off his face and accidentally prodding himself directly in the cornea. “Where did you hear that?”

“I mean…” Jihoon shifts his weight uncomfortably. “I didn’t, I guess.” His face is burning, and he’s not sure whether it’s from shame or the belated realization that Jun might have just actually seriously legitimately called him cute. “Then,” he begins again cautiously after a while, throat absurdly dry, “are you gay?”

“Yes,” Jun confirms without hesitation. His stare is almost comically intense went he continues with, “A lot.” The corners of Jihoon’s mouth perk up without permission.

“You’re a lot gay?” he asks, and Jun furrows his brow like he can’t remember if that’s what he said.

“Uh… yeah.” In the span of a millisecond, his face drops its confusion and breaks into an unnecessarily charming smile. “Anyway, now that that’s out of the way, can I kiss you?” This time, Jihoon chokes on air instead of bread.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, I mean,” Jun starts, taking a step closer, and Jihoon is once again acutely aware of the hand wrapped around his wrist, “you think I’m hot, I think you’re cute. It feels like the logical next step.”

“Do you not just feel like such a pushy jackass saying that?”

“I am a pushy jackass,” he says, “but you think I’m hot anyway.” He inches even closer, until Jihoon can see the whole stupid moon in his dumb, sparkly eyes. “And I think you’re cute,” he reminds him, “so is it a yes or a no?”

“Do you seriously think I’m going to say yes?” Jihoon barely manages to breathe out. It’s now that he notices that Jun has a number of prominent freckles on his face; unfortunately, he is very weak to freckles.

“I was really hoping you might.” Jihoon releases a weighty sigh.

“You know, I really hate trombones.”

“That’s a harsh way to say no.”

“I’m not saying no,” Jihoon mutters, and he really hopes he doesn’t regret it.

Jun finally lets Jihoon’s arm go, but only so he can cage him on both sides and push him back into the concrete wall, hoisting him up to get his face high enough above the water so they won’t be either uncomfortable or drowning. He must be pretty strong, because he holds Jihoon up with nothing but his arms braced against the ground, and Jihoon’s a little mad that he’s kind of impressed. He’s also not keen on the feeling of the ledge digging into his back, but before he can complain about it, Jun’s kissing him, long and deep and slow. He tastes like pool water, and Jihoon hates that he doesn’t hate it.

“My back hurts,” Jihoon whines as they walk away from the pool much later. He massages a spot over his spine that’s surely going to be bruised later in irritation, though he guesses there could be bigger issues than back pain; after all, when the directors started making their rounds to tell everyone it was about time to vacate the pool, it was only the grace of a second that stopped them from finding Jihoon with a mouth attached to his neck.

“Oh, boohoo. My arms hurt,” he complains, bumping Jihoon with his elbow on purpose. “You’re not as light as you look.”

“I think you can learn to deal with it.” Jun chuckles quietly. It’s a light, airy, summery sound, and it doesn’t sound out of place alongside the dull buzz of the cicadas.

“Ah, that reminds me,” Jun hums suddenly, “we still haven’t had an actual conversation.”

“Are you kidding me?” It hardly seems like it matters anymore now that they’ve had their tongues in each other’s mouths, but Jun looks ridiculously earnest.

“Of course not. I am a _gentleman_.”

“You’re a trombone,” Jihoon corrects with a scoff. “Those do not coincide.”

“Well, I guess you won’t know that for sure if you don’t try talking to me.” Jihoon eyes him skeptically before an exhausted sigh slides through his lips.

“You can come up to my room if you promise to be quiet,” he says, and Jun looks like he’s just been told that Christmas is going to be twice a year from now on.

“Hell yeah, I’ll be quiet!” he shouts, not reassuring Jihoon at all, then drops his voice to little more than a whisper. “You’re about to have the night of your life. My conversational skills are second to none.”

Jihoon hates that he’s kind of excited. He really hates that he’s glad he went to the pool party, and he really, really, _really_ hates that he’s so pleased he was never able to go back in time to stop himself from ever picking up a clarinet.

**Author's Note:**

> hell yeah it's band camp au. this is pretty self indulgent t b h. i did a poll on twitter to decide what au to write first and this one did not win but HEY i still wrote it first. that's me.... giving the people exactly what they didn't ask for. ANYWAY i really enjoyed writing this and i really really really hope you enjoyed reading it!! as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, and i'll be back with something else again before too long. thanks again!!


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